Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

The night that the Accountant


The night that the Accountant figured out poetry
was a simple story
about a man and a woman
and the stories they tell
each other-
About
who should and who should not
discuss poetry,
since there is no GAP
in poetics or likewise, alibis.

I told him a story about a poem
that was a story
I made up,
I was never really there.

He said, 'Of course it wasn't true.
Being pushed off a bridge was just a
metaphor-
for what-
I don't exactly know, but if I know you,
it was a feeling
you felt that day.'

I confessed
it was true, all of it.
I could have jumped.
He understood
more poetry
than he ever could have
accounted for.

Along this
line lying between non-and-fiction,
a subtraction connects us.
And we reconcile our difference
of opinions in between
heads and tales
black and read
to solve all word problems.




Photo credit by Mathew Brady, Long Bridge, Washington, D.C. in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Monday, March 6, 2017

SciFi


My fantasies now dull,
I read non-fiction for spice-

Life told fantastic.

Painting by By Pieter Fris, 1650 (Sotheby's) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Thursday, December 29, 2016

Book covers and titles tell all


If they saw the Bhagavad Gita what would they think?
If they knew any thing or two about truth in fiction,
or which was the stranger 
of the two
If they knew respect is not a costume anyone can wear...
if I cared 
they don't think of me
If they knew my ears were not sensitive enough
to hear small talk
would they only speak louder...spoken over thought.

They were not here when my daughter said we needed 
more bookshelves, requesting wall to wall coverage would be good,
she envisioned this plan, we have more than enough
needless to say, she pleased me greatly.

If I had not been buried in stacks of books
I wonder if she would still want this,
to save me.

And 
If they knew about being a parent-
is it obvious they could care less...
Apparently knowing would never be
good enough
                          to be great. 


Painting by Giuseppe Crespi, c. 1725 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

And then...

  Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign,  at first...